Puzzle Pieces (SonnyGraffiti Pete)
by tigerlilycorinne
Summary: As the community takes Pete and Sonny in and pushes them out, they find solid ground in together. Sonny and Pete hang out together, each missing and searching for pieces of themselves. Can they find them in each other? Some of the scenes come from the play and some aren't. The story on a whole takes place during and after the events in In The Heights. Credit to Lin Manuel Miranda.
1. In The Heights

For those of you here from my other works: thanks for continuing to read my trash. Those new, thanks for choosing to read my trash. It means a lot.

_Vandalism, _they call it. _Defacing private property_ is the more advanced way of saying it.

But that's not what it feels like to Pete. When he sprays paints on a wall, a sign, a grate, he doesn't feel like he's _defacing_ anything. If anything, it feels like he's giving a face to something that didn't have one before. He gives life to walls that used to be just plaster, he spreads uniqueness. Character. Spirit. It's a piece of the puzzle of a life he hasn't yet completed.

To most people, Pete knew that the word _graffiti_ is criminalizing, but he enjoys the title _Graffiti Pete. _ He's proud of it. Because to him, the word means liberation. To people like him, African Americans struggling and misunderstood in the barrio, liberation is much needed.

_Stalking,_ some might say. _Following. Spying_, they might accuse him of. But Sonny really isn't following Graffiti Pete. Sonny is going to the bodega, and it happens that Pete is a block ahead of him, heading the same way- perhaps Sonny decides to slow down to watch Pete's smooth, lanky swagger, but he doesn't change his intended course, so it isn't stalking.

Sonny watches as Graffiti Pete stops in front of the bodega and swings his backpack from his shoulder as smoothly as his graceful strides down the street. Pete pulls out cans of spray paint, worn and dusted with color.

Sonny stops to watch instead of going into the bodega that's due to open just about now.

Pete shakes a glazy red vigorously and sprays it in arcs over the grate, then orange, a riot of warm colors spilling vibrantly from his hands as they dip from deep red to the brightest of rich yellows. This is the feeling he loves, the feeling he never felt anymore, not since his father learned the hard way the reality of police brutality. This is what it feels like to let go of pain. This is what freedom feels like.

The guy that Sonny's always considered quite the enigma is now letting loose streams of paint. _Graffiti Pete_ is pretty much all he knows about Pete: he does graffiti, his name is Pete. Seeing this, Sonny wants to know more.

"Hey!" An energetic voice breaks through Pete's concentration and Pete feels himself fall back to earth. Sonny watches Pete deflate as he's chased from the grate, leaving a half-completed cast of color that looks more like an emotion than an object.

"Always a criminal," Pete mutters as he slips away. Something on Pete's face looks painfully personal.

Sonny brings his thoughts off of Pete's face and to Usnavi's as Usnavi rolls his eyes and groans, "Got this little punk I gotta chase away." _Little punk._ How old was Graffiti Pete anyway?

Pete slumps onto a bench. He doesn't really have a home to run to, so this will have to do, even though the sun is going to burn him to a crisp and his apartment is still technically there. But his mom lectures him every day for going down the same path as his dad and is always coming back with men just like what people think his dad was anyway.

It's a house, not a home.

Pete inventories his colors, even though he knows everything he needs to: he's low on paint and money, and he'd got no way to buy more. His minimum wage job at the fast food register barely pays for his food. He wishes for the millionth time that he could get paid for his work, but God knows that's never going to happen. The corner piece- necessary to hold things together, but ultimately out of the picture's focus.

He thinks lightly of his younger dreams. Sometimes he still lets himself. He paints the picture of his imagined future for his father, up in heaven, watching. Listening. _I close my eyes and I can see the world that's waiting up for me, that I call my own. _He looks up, willing his dad to hear him. _Every night I lie in bed, the brightest colors fill my head…_

Sonny strides toward the store, tuning into Daniela's gossip as they take their warm coffee, even though the sun is warm enough.

"He's in bed with José from the liquor store."

Sonny's heart drops to his toes. _He._ "No mi diga!" Usnavi exclaims in shock. And horror.

_Oh God._ It's hard enough that Sonny barely earns a glance a day from his cousin, but if that's really how his cousin see's homosexuality… Bi is one of the puzzle pieces that he's not ready to show anyone yet.

"Sonny! You're late!" Usnavi waves him over impatiently.

"Chillax," he decides to push it, "you know you love me."

Usnavi returns to his freestyle rapping. "Me and my cousin, running, just another dime a dozen, mom and pop stop and shop…"

Sonny opens the fridge and is immediately assaulted with the sour smell of spoiled milk. _Oh_. Unsavi just needed him to fix the fridge. He can do that. Totally.

Sonny crouches down to work as he wonders what it will take for Usnavi to give him an ounce of attention. If he's judging from what he just overheard, coming out to Usnavi would be one way, but that attention would hardly be positive. But Usnavi is his center piece. He loves him, needs him, builds himself around him.

Sonny thanks God he has a crush on Nina. Maybe it will impair his ability to like guys. Afterall, how many crushes can you have at once?

But as his hands flick switches and complete circuits in practiced motions, he can't help remembering Pete's long strides and the grace of his movements as he made the grate an unfinished puzzle.

Pete has finished figuring out how long those cans will last him. The short answer is not long.

Not that he needs to paint. It's not _physically_ necessary. His mom is always nagging him to do something productive. Something useful. She doesn't like him in the streets because that's how his dad died and she likes it even less since he could get in trouble for vandalism.

Pete wonders when he'll ever be _useful_ to someone.

And a block away, Sonny wonders when anyone will ever keep him around for a reason other than the fact that he's useful.

**Super short chapter, pretty low on dialogue, but I'm trying. Thank you for reading!**


	2. 96,000

Nina is back in town, and the neighborhood is buzzing with praise and excitement. Sonny isn't an exception.

Nina's bright smile and shy strength is something he's missed a lot, and her eyes sparkle just as he remembered. He hasn't had a _just them_ moment since a few years ago when she was his sitter.

Sometimes he feels like she still thinks of him as a little kid, asking whether it's his bedtime yet. He's sixteen, thank you, and closer to his seventeenth birthday than his last one.

Graffiti Pete lounges nearby, his backpack slung over one shoulder as he runs his fingers absentmindedly over the cans and winces over Sonny's indignation at Nina's patronizing tone.

He _is_ grown up, and Pete treasures his remaining boyishness from a distance. Two years apart is the least of the distance between them, especially since Pete just turned 18 and Sonny is nearly 17. Plus, Sonny is more mature than 16 calls for and Pete is still feeling like a cumbersome kid.

No, the distance is more of the fact that they kind of live in different circles. It isn't an unbreachable distance, but Pete has his own worries anyway. No need to stress over a cute guy when he should stress over his lack of paint.

Which is why he's here: to wait until they leave the damn bodega for a minute. He isn't sure what it will be yet; things always cleared up later when he just let loose and something formed. It was a wonderful feeling not to be tied down by a specific end product. He needs to finish it though. He feels the urge to, as if it's an empty puzzle-piece outline, a space that needs to be filled.

When Sonny sulks back inside it's like the light has gone out.

He's so _alive._ And Pete envy's that feeling, because he only glimpses life that rich when he's painting.

God. He needs more paint.

Sonny flicks the fridge light, and it lights up. Why didn't he feel like he wanted Nina, not the way he used to? He still liked her but… not nearly as much. Last time he checked, she was part of his puzzle. But maybe her piece changed shape.

And when he trots his way home and flops onto the couch for a midday nap because it's too hot for anything else, his dreams aren't of streaming waves of hair. They're of short, tight coils, cut so close to the head they're barely there. And instead of creamy smooth skin of skim milk, it's rich chocolate tones rippling with muscles.

He's up. He did not just take a mid-morning nap and he did not just dream about holding hands with Graffiti Pete, who's probably got a million ex-girlfriends.

"Ninety-six thousand." Usnavi tells him in wonder as he jumps back into the bodega.

Sonny speaks with Benny, "Damn!"

"Dollars? Holla!"

Benny steps up behind them and Usnavi repeats the information with more emphasis. "Ninety-six thousand!"

"Yo, somebody won!"

Pete marvels at the idea of so much money. "That's a lot of spray cans!" he exclaims to himself.

Sonny meets his eyes with a grin, his eyes flick in the direction of the grate, and Pete's cheeks warm. Sonny seems to like his work, if the glow in his eyes means anything.

Sonny hopes he isn't blushing, the images from his dream still fresh in his mind. His fingers climbing Pete's arms. Pete's strong arms locked around him protectively.

Usnavi quickly breaks the spell. "I'll give you three seconds before I call the police. 9… 1…"

Pete quickly bolts out of the bodega before Usnavi can Usnavi really have to assume? Pete doesn't do anything illegal. Well, except for his art, but it _shouldn't_ be illegal. He knows about the black man stereotype. His mother picks them up and uses them, throwing them away when she's done like Pete goes through spray cans.

When the police assumed, it got Pete's father killed. Pete figures Usnavi must just not like _Pete,_ which hurts because it seems no one does. Pete's the puzzle piece that doesn't fit.

_What about Sonny?_ Sonny's warm smile floats back into Pete's mind and he almost smiles. Pete wishes. But Sonny _worships_ Usnavi, and Usnavi hates Pete. So.

Sonny watches Pete's lithe form lounging outside. When he ran, it was so smooth. Strong. He can't imagine Nina ever running like that.

He follows Benny and Usnavi outside as Benny pictures what he would do with ninety-six thousand dollars.

"I got more hoes than a phonebook in Tokyo!"

Well, okay. Not gay then. Sonny bites his lip and looks down, not that anyone notices. Sometimes pieces look like they fit, but they don't.

Pete notices. Sonny's biting his lip and it's kind of alluring until Sonny ducks his head… _shyly?_ Pete didn't know Sonny could ever be shy, but it's pretty damn cute.

Usnavi glares. "Shut up, go home, and pull your damn pants up!" If only he could. If only he had a real home, if only shutting up was all he needed to do- but it wasn't.

Graffiti Pete's rare smile is replaced by one of melancholy and the day feels just a little colder as Sonny watches Pete's expression flicker. Pete always looks able and active, but not… happy. Eager. Alive.

Sonny wants to see him light up.

Pete smiles just a little bit as Sonny passionately talks about using the money to improve the ghetto. He lights up inside like he's swallowed the sun, and his conviction feels as alive as if it was a real being. Sonny loves his community, something Pete wishes he could relate to. But how can he love something that continues to shut him out?

"You are so cute!" Sonny grins at Usnavi as Vanessa plants a playful kiss on his forehead, catching the jealousy that slips through Usnavi's eyes, just for a minute.

Usnavi did promise he's never forgotten that Sonny's been there.

Sonny begs to differ, but he hopes it's a resolution. God only knows if Usnavi will keep it.

**If you can't tell, I'm trying to do the both-character's-thoughts thing. I'm failing really, really badly, so if you have any advice on how to write like this, I will love you forever.**


	3. Blackout

Maybe it's because finally relaxing, now that it's summer, complete with sweltering heat.

Maybe it's because Sonny seems to like Nina less romantically since she returned.

Either way, Sonny is suddenly noticing Pete, looking around, trying to catch sight of the lithe, lanky, graceful guy.

Or maybe it's the other way around: Maybe it seems to hot _because _Sonny keeps recalling sugar-sweet dreams and blushing, and he likes Nina less like a crush _because_ he can't keep his mind off of strong arms, dark skin, slim body in a tank top. Maybe the piece fits after all.

Maybe.

Graffiti Pete can't stop idly sketching Sonny's bright face on a scrappy piece of paper. He doodles and it's Sonny's stocky frame, he draws deliberate lines only to find Sonny's angular jawline, lips in a wide grin, heartwarming.

Pete smiles back before rolling his eyes and starting over. If he's going to draw someone, his mom can't catch him drawing a cute guy with a blush...

That's _not _a conversation he feels like having right now.

Pete and Sonny both tell themselves, _it's nothing but a passing crush._

It's dark and Pete is back chilling on the bench. He and Sonny are coexisting quite nicely without either talking or making it awkward.

Sonny looks stoically boundless, like even late into the night he's not nearly tired as he jumps around and makes brightly colored slushies.

Pete is… well, Pete is mysterious, but not in a dangerous way. He's just a solid presence, with solid muscles and a less than solid movement as though he moves like water.

Sonny can see Pete cringing as Sonny mixes blue raspberry with nerds and a squirt of sour-citrus orange. It's a burst of sour with undertones of sweet, fruit and artificial flavors. It seems like a super immature mix, he knows, which is the _last _thing he wants Pete to think of him, but hey, it tastes good!

Pete bites his lip as Sonny considers, and then adds more orange-colored slushie. Those colors together are hideous, and when they mix he knows they'll be a color worthy of Satan's realm.

Right now they haven't mixed, but even in the dim light of the lamp post Pete can tell they clash terribly.

But then the light flickers off, on, off and Pete can't see the horrid colors anymore- he can't see anything at all. Neither can Sonny, but he can hear people spilling out of the club in a panic, so he is soon swept in contradictory torrents of people calling and rushing and asking things to no one in particular.

Enveloped by the panic and chaos, it's oddly calming (although only a bit) for Sonny to voice his own anxiety, to get it out of his system.

Pete is always on the fringes of community, an edge piece; he can hear the commotion but he's lucky enough to not be part of the panic. A few lights begin to break the darkness- candles, flashlights- and he sees Sonny running over to the bodega, his stocky form lined in light. This could be a beautiful photograph, and if done right, an even better painting, maybe if he accented and highlighted Sonny's full, set features…

"What's going on, what's going on?" Sonny can barely make out Graffiti Pete's lanky figure moving towards him, yet the movements are so smooth that he can't say _running. _Still, Pete's moving fast enough that he's at Sonny's elbow in an instant.

"Yo, they doing battles in the street, people lootin' and shootin'," Pete warns Sonny urgently. "Sonny, they wanna see a robbery, we gotta keep moving!"

Sonny resists as Pete tries to pull him away from the bodega, even as a couple shots ring out and crashes are heard from other shops. Sonny shouldn't be focusing on how his name sounds like melted milk chocolate on Pete's tongue. Pete shouldn't be watching flickering lights play out from behind Sonny, casting on his wide eyes in the brightest of colors.

Sonny gathers his wits to reply, "Nah, man, I can't leave, we gotta guard the store!"

Pete is intriguing, but not enough to pull Sonny away from the only thing Usnavi has left. When the puzzle is demolished, you cling to the pieces still connected.

"They're gonna bombard the store until you ain't got a store no more." He finds Sonny's determined loyalty pretty admirable. He knows this blind loyalty; he felt the same way about his dad, and still feels that way whenever anyone mentions something less than flattering about him.

Sonny, though, is standing strong and true in the face of violence, unlike Pete. Pete, who ran and ran and didn't stop running until he couldn't feel his tears against the wind on his cheeks.

Sonny jumps up, remembering suddenly, "I got a baseball bat on the rack in the back."

He didn't mean to say it outloud, as if he expects Pete to stay with him and risk getting beat up, but Pete replies, "I got a couple of Roman candles, we can distract the vandals." because he's not about to leave Sonny to get his ass beat. He is _not_ going to come back to Sonny's body, splayed on the pavement, mangled with cuts, stained with blood that seeps into the sidewalk like rich watercolor- _no._ That is not something he'll imagine as a painting. It's horrible and heartbreaking and stingingly familiar.

Sonny squints, catching sight of shadows getting nearer. Is that a knife? A gun? _Shit._ "Ay, I see some thugs coming, we gonna get jacked up!"

He wants to shove Pete away. _Get out, leave, don't get hurt,_ but Pete only pulls Sonny into a strong, comforting hug. "Gimme a light, I'll be right back-" he breaks off as the guys get closer, "-back off, back off, back off!"

For the rest of the evening, Sonny can only think of the strong, protective guy beside him, grateful, powerful as he moves. Sonny does his share with considerably less grace, but he can't keep his mind from the rippling muscle he felt through Graffiti Pete's thin, sleeveless tee in that hug.

And Pete. Pete finds himself painting Sonny in his mind, from the golden determination in his eyes to the black-black of his curls, the fade of his shirt and the planes of his face under the flashing fireworks that explode colors into the sky, not unlike the sparkles lighting themselves in Pete's stomach as the thugs finally do back off and Sonny turns to Pete with a dazzling smile as though he'll never tire. A puzzle piece that catches the eye, even though it's not the one Pete wants to be looking for.

"Um." A magician with words, Sonny suddenly finds that Pete has wiped his mind blank. "Thanks. For that. Without your help… that would have really sucked."

"Glad to be useful." It's the most honest statement Pete can make besides _I want to kiss you_. "You're… uh… you're cool" Pete's words don't have the grace that his body does and Sonny finds himself blushing because _Pete said he's cool_. "I'll… well, I mean, I always see you around, but maybe we should chill sometime?" and he wants to _chill_ with him. Pete is stuttering and it's pretty cute.

Sonny is trying to stop grinning, but he can't turn it off like a lightswitch. "Yeah. Yeah, you swing around and I'll slip you free slushies. I just made a new combo- it's like this orange- blue raspberry nerds thing and man, I swear it's better than it sounds…" Sonny knows he's rambling. He does this a lot.

Pete loves Sonny's rambling. It's really sweet. Sonny lights up. Gestures. Smiles. "I'll try it," he assures Sonny. "The colors though…"

"Yo, man, I forgot, you're an artist!" Sonny goes for a first bump and Pete's a little bit off rhythm because no one's ever called him an _artist_ before. As if he's actually an _artist._ What a word on those beautiful lips. Everyone tells Pete that _artist_ isn't the piece that fits, but Sonny's telling him it might.

"Yeah, artist."

"See you 'round the bodega?" Sonny watches the muscles ripple as Pete raises a half-wave.

"See you."

**Bit of a longer chapter, but I'm mostly doing things in moments from the play and some moments are longer than others, such as Blackout. In any case, I've heard people like the longer chapters, so.**


	4. Carnaval de Barrio

Pete blinks at the door of the bodega before ducking inside. He wishes he could wipe his cheeks free of the blush that stains them but they're drawn in colored pencils- the crappy crayola ones that don't erase.

"Hey!" Sonny tries to ignore the flutter, the jump, the urge to smile. He fails.

_Pete's here._ Pete came. Pete wanted to see him.

"'Sup?" Pete smiles. Sonny's the only one who's made him smile in the past few days.

Sonny grabs cups. "Not much. Refreshing to see a new face."

Pete _won't_ blush. "Anytime, yo. I got nothing better to do." He winks at Sonny, thanking him for the slushie. Hideous or not, he'll try it if it's from Sonny. Sonny's face heats up even more. It's awkward, but it's nice awkward and-

"Hey, punk, get out of my shop!" Both turn to Usnavi at the register.

"Yo, man, I'm just chilling out, dude." Pete doesn't roll his eyes, but he wants to. He drops his eyes to Sonny, who doesn't defend him. _Ouch._

Sonny isn't about to step up against Usnavi. Usnavi's voice is still echoing in his head. _No me diga!_

Usnavi glares at Pete, and pulls out an old off-brand cell phone.

_Shit._ Pete bolts out the door.

Sonny watches Pete run, like a deer, bouncy, graceful, a spring in his feet.

Pete slumps onto a nearby park bench, alone. Again. With a sigh, he begins to sketch Sonny again, his whole body, stocky-short, energetic smile, winking.

Sonny glances over to Usnavi. "Hey, I'm gonna go see what he thought about my combo," Sonny says, hopping off the counter. Usnavi doesn't even blink.

"Sure bro."

Pete looks up from his barely started sketch to see the real Sonny plop down beside him with a grin.

His cap is on backwards, like it always is, and a few little curls spill from below it, where his eyes are still visible."Sorry about my cousin, he's an awesome guy-" Sonny tries to explain. He doesn't know why Usnavi dislikes Pete so much. The grate?

Or maybe… has Usnavi noticed Sonny making eyes at Pete…? _God, please no_.

"He just hates me." Pete finishes. He knows it's true.

"Yeah," Sonny shrugs apologetically. Pete keeps looking back down at whatever he's drawing as they talk about the slushie, the hot day, the bodega, the birds that Abuela feeds.

"What's she like?" Graffiti Pete suddenly asks, squinting into the sun.

"Abuela?" Sonny smiles at her name, feeling it warm his body from the inside out. Pete wants to pull out a camera and take a picture of this smile; it's different than the others. The others are energetic, eager, passionate. This one is loving, wistful, soft.

Pete doesn't have a camera. He speeds up his drawing. Lines, curves, shading, lighting.

"Well." Sonny lifts his cap and sets it back on, ruffling his curls. "She's wonderful. She cares so much about people and she gives to everyone, time and effort and love, you know? She loves us unconditionally like she really is my Abuela, feel me? The one I run to when no one else got my back."

Pete wrinkles his brow, sketching quietly as Sonny gazes off, wistful when his eyes turn to the bodega.

"Don't you have Usnavi?" Pete asks curiously, following the path of Sonny's eyes. Abuela sounds like the mother he wishes he had. Imagine coming home to someone who says _hi_ when he walks in. Who listens when he feels down, who smiles, who hugs.

Sonny sighs, his smile fading to affably disappointed. "Nah, he's too occupied with Vanessa and getting back to the DR."

Pete holds his hand out and pulls Sonny into a hug, desperately wishing it was a kiss. Sonny, his chest pressed into Pete's lanky bundle of limbs, feels the grace rippling through him as though Pete's magic is flowing into Sonny. He wants to inch his fingers under that stupid tee and run his fingers across the smooth, chocolate skin.

"You can talk to me." Pete offers, his deep voice sending sparklers off down Sonny's spine. His mouth is right by Sonny's ear.

"Thanks." Sonny grins and they sit side by side, Pete's arm still around Sonny's shoulders, Sonny's side still pressed against Pete. Pete's worried Sonny can feel his heartbeat speeding and Sonny is pretty sure that if they'd hugged any longer he might have had a very awkward situation in his pants. "Hey, dude, what're you drawing?"

"You," Pete tells the paper in his lap, not looking up.

"Me?"

"Well. You have a nice face, you know, and fireworks lighting last night gave me ideas, 'cuz you have these really cool eyes, and man, your cheekbones give you this nice angle, with you smiling- and you've got great lips-" _Oops. _He goes for a cocky smile. Turns out that's the right choice because Sonny's face is a red as rich as acrylics.

Sonny's burning from the inside out, so he asks to see the paper for something else to focus on other than kissing Pete because that's out of the question. Pete's so out of his league it's painful, but the drawing turns out to be perfect as a distraction- it's beautiful.

Pete wants to capture this expression too: the wonder on Sonny's face. "It's like me, but hotter." Sonny observes, watching Pete watch him. Their eyes click like the right pieces. Pete grins at this, because Sonny is blushing so much, but smiling too. "Nah," Pete shrugs off the praise like slipping through water. "I prefer the real you."

Sonny splutters. "Thank you." Wow- just- whoa. As rare as it is, he finds himself disliking Usnavi, just for a minute, when he's called in.

It's later that afternoon when Pete finally finds his way back to Sonny, and they're chatting like old friends. Sonny's happy, Pete's actually feeling _alive_. It's like life is glossed over, has been placed in a frame and set brightly on a mantel rather than being a black and white sketch.

Pete loves it.

Of course, this is when the neighborhood decides to circle up.

Pete and Sonny look at each other; for a neighborhood that Pete's lived in all his life, he doesn't feel all that connected to it. Sonny's Usnavi's little cousin, and he doesn't plan on diving in just to get petted.

They stay on the edges. Until Usnavi announces Abuela won the lotto.

"What?" Sonny gasps quietly to himself.

Pete's eyes widen. "Holy shit, bro."

Sonny gapes. The two people who look after him are leaving him without a thought. For the DR. _Tomorrow._

Don't they know they're unique pieces? Sonny will never find new ones to full the empty spaces they leave behind.

Sonny shakes his head, and Pete slings an arm around Sonny's shoulders, seeing him struggle to breathe. "That's hella messed up, man."

Sonny glowers. "Usnavi's not messed up."

Pete shakes his head. "That's not what I said." He tries not to look alarmed as Sonny keeps talking at him angrily.

"Usnavi isn't messed up, okay? He's a great guy. He's just got lots of stuff going on, alright?"

Pete knows that Sonny's just upset, but he shoots back anyway, "So much stuff he can't even spare a thought for the fifteen year old kid he's leaving behind?"

Sonny bites his lip. Is that what Pete thinks of him? Just a kid? "I'm not a kid, I'm sixteen! And a half!"

Pete rolls his eyes. "Anyone who still counts halves is totally a kid."

Sonny turns huffily back to the neighborhood, not wanting to deal with Pete anymore.

Sonny is mad. _Shit._ Pete jumps up, helping Sonny gather people's attention. "Wait a minute!"

_I'm sorry,_ is what Pete means. Then he bites it back. Sonny likes Nina? Wait, not likes- _loves._ His puzzle is back to two pieces: Pete and art.

Damn it. Pete actually believed- it doesn't matter what Pete believed. It doesn't matter because he was obviously wrong and they never even had anything so why does he want to cry right now?

Sonny wants to cry. Pete's dashed off, and he's clearly mad. Usnavi and Abuela are leaving him. He wishes Usnavi and Abuela will never leave- their plans will be cancelled. He hopes and he hopes and he hopes.


	5. atención

Pete tucks himself into a curled up position he can still draw in and tries to convince himself he never liked Sonny in the first place, but all he can think about his his gorgeous face, the small body he wants to ravish, the smiles he wants to see again and again and again.

Since when is a guy gay just because a gay guy likes him? It's just Pete's luck that he falls in love with a straight guy. Or, also, he figures, it lines up with the odds. Any one piece out of hundreds is more likely to not be a match than to fit. But saying it lines up with the odds make it factual, like Pete should have seen it coming, so Pete pushes that thought away.

Seeing that he can't pretend he doesn't like Sonny, doesn't desperately want to kiss him and kiss him and _kiss_ him, Pete settles for drawing just that: the two of them kissing. A paper maché for the empty spot in his puzzle.

If dreams is all he'll get of Sonny, than his dreams will just have to be good enough.

Sonny almost wants to leave and find Pete- this celebration is too happy for its own good and people are probably going to end up drunk. Sonny doesn't want to drink now- he's 16 after all (he's dropped the half)- and he doesn't want to drink much when he's older either.

Even if he pretends to want to sometimes, because it means he's cooler. And cooler just might mean _closer_ to Graffiti Pete.

Sonny does leave the celebration then, because suddenly it's too happy for _Sonny,_ who really really really wants to cry.

He's going to be alone soon. He doesn't even know who to come out to because he doesn't have anyone close anymore. He sure can't talk to Nina.

And that's when Nina calls Usnavi over, and Sonny, being the little cousin he is, follows Usnavi into a room.

Nina shatters his puzzle and leaves the pieces on the floor.

Pete's just finished with his shading, admiring the hard and soft lines, the touches of color he's added in particular places with his riches colored pencils, when a shirt is thrown at him

"Useless brat." His mother is drunk, high, and still smoking, a black man Pete's never seen before on her arm. He's wearing a chain that's fake, a beanie that's too low to be cool, and he's sagging wrong.

He's drunk.

"Get your clothes out of my damn room and wear them, for God's sake." Pete doesn't say it's already not enough outside, and also it's _their _ room because he sleeps there too.

He doesn't say it because he doesn't need a tongue lashing, and he usually sleeps on the floor anyway, since his bed is usually taken by a stranger. His mom's record is a week, except for Pete's father.

His dad was cooler. He only smoked pot, only got drunk on real occasions, didn't sag and didn't sell. He was even trying to quit. When he was alive, Pete's mom didn't yell, and certainly not about clothes that he left on his own bed.

Pete sighs, folds the paper into his pocket, and slips the shirt on. Whatever. At least his pants are clean- he washed them this morning.

Pete gets a text- not from Sonny like he hoped, but from Usnavi. It seems he's included everyone in the neighborhood, hoping word would get around seeing as most people's phones are dead by now.

Pete reads it, and his first thought is of Sonny.

Cars are blaring the message now, but Pete's already read it. He's on speed mode now.

Sonny laughs. Because it's a joke, right? He just saw Abuela yesterday, Abuela was laughing with Usnavi earlier today, Abuela isn't dead. She's too great for death, she'd rise above it. Kevin's crackling voice, the texture of rough sand, is mournful, sad, and it sounds like the man is on the verge of crying.

It's a joke, though. Or a false rumor. It takes Sonny five minutes to realize he doesn't really believe it's a joke: deep down he knows this is for real. It takes him five minutes to sit down on the bench and notice he's crying.

Pete drops the pen, pulls off the ridiculous shirt he's forced to wear. A needle pierces his heart and he's pretty damn sure Sonny feels more like his heart is being put through a grinder.

Pete doesn't actually know what he's going to do. He doesn't know Abuela too personally, and he can't truly relate to losing her. He lost his dad, though.

Regardless, Pete wants to be there for Sonny, if he needs arms to cry in, if Usnavi lets him be there. Since Abuela was always the one there for Sonny.

It takes five minutes for Pete to sprint to the bodega and spot Sonny on the bench.

When Sonny hears light footsteps and glances up to Pete running gracefully towards him at light speed, he feels a tiny bit of happiness- _tiny_ tiny, like a nerd in a large slushie- but he hates himself for it anyway because how can he feel anything but heartbreak when Abuela can't feel anything at all?

Pete doesn't say _hi_ or wave or wink or smile. He just opens his arms and Sonny launches himself into them as if that's where he belongs.

Pete wraps his arms around Sonny's shaking body. "I'm sorry."

Sonny sobs into Pete's chest and lets him collect the pieces.


	6. Alabanza

Pete clutches the warm, hurt body in his arms, glad to be a comfort and not an intrusion on Sonny's grief. The front of his thin, paint-speckled shirt darkens with the tears Sonny spills, but Pete only continues to rub Sonny's back in small circles. He doesn't murmur comforting things or sweet nothings, because it's _not_ okay, and that's okay.

Sonny buries his face deeper into Pete's chest, not even caring that he looks like a crybaby or a sissy. In any case, Sonny doesn't like the word _sissy_ because sisters are just as strong as brothers. That's an issue for another day.

Abuela was a strong sis. _Was._ Sonny hates that fucking word, a word that means _not anymore_ and _in the past _and _gone._ Abuela shouldn't be a _was_. His puzzle is a _was._

The whole hood is out, hugging and crying and lighting candles. It reminds Sonny of Pete, the guy who's hugging him and not asking for anything in return. In return for being an anchor in the middle of an ocean of grief, a presence in the middle of alone. Sony stops clutching the front of Pete's shirt and wraps his arms around Pete instead.

Pete is surprised but gratified that he's a wanted presence, and squeezes Sonny just a bit. _I'm here._

Usnavi, choking, tripping, falling over his tears, swallows and quietly reports, "She was found and pronounced at the scene; she was already lying in bed. The paramedics said that her heart gave out." Usnavi chokes again, but continues. "I mean, that's basically what they said. They said 'the combination of the stress and the heat' why she never took her medicine, I'll never understand."

Sonny and Pete listen as Usnavi grieves out loud, remembering Abuela through the soft words of family. Sonny feels the whole community breathing tears in sync, and here, no one is alone anymore.

Well, except for Pete, because even though he's holding Sonny and Sonny's grasping him tightly back, he never knew Abuela, so…

Everyone around him is crying, hugging, singing, yelling, speaking, whispering. _Alabanza,_ they all say. Abuela used to say that, they say. To raise something to God's face and to say quite literally, _praise to this_. They say that when she was here, the path was clear, that she was just here. That sounds wonderful. Pete wouldn't know. He can only hold Sonny tighter- and then let him go as Sonny pulls away and joins the people who knew her better on the street.

Sonny joins the people who've begun to circle up, slipping out of Pete's arms like a clumsy newborn colt. His legs are shaking; his knees want to pull him down. He wants to stumble and fall and sob into his hands like a mad grieving, but he can't stop the estranged grimace of a boy who's just lost his mother, his grandmother, his guardian, and is too hollow inside to cry much more.

He doesn't see Pete sit back on the edge of the circle, his arms wrapped around himself as though he misses the body he held. Pete runs his hands over the back of his neck and then his head, wincing at the sharpness of the stubble growing back.

Sonny is with the people who need him. The people he needs. The people who will truly help him grieve, who will truly hold him and understand his loss. Pete doesn't belong here; he doesn't know Abuela like everyone else does.

He retreats to his bench.

Sonny is wringing his hands so hard and fast it's become his new source of attention- anything but the thought that Abuela was alive moments before and now she's not.

She was going to give a third of the money to him. It doesn't even matter anymore that she was going to leave with Usnavi- that's not important. In the light of now, Sonny wonders if anything will ever be important again.

She was finally going to go home. She missed it, they all knew. She'd always tell them about the stars in Cuba, how they were so brilliant and the New York ones were so dull.

Sonny hates himself for wishing they'd never leave Washington Heights. He should have wished they'd leave right then- sped away to the DR as soon as they got the money.

Now he realizes suddenly that when he found out they were leaving, she was already dead.

_Alabanza_. She's gone. _Alabanza._ Rest in peace. _Alabanza._ Our world has gone dark without your light. _Alabanza._ We love you.

_Alabanza._

We know you're watching us from above.

_Alabanza._

We'll make you proud.

_Alabanza._

We promise.

**Sorry all my chapters have such irregular lengths. They are each different moments from the play and the aftermath of them, and what was happening before, so quite frankly, it's hard to work things into chapters around songs and moments. I tried. **


	7. Champagne

Sonny doesn't hear Usnavi calling him. Not at all. He's too busy thinking about Pete to bother with Usnavi anyway.

He's too busy daydreaming about a future with someone who actually cares. Because Pete does. Even though Pete was mad about Sonny- and for good reason- he came to hold Sonny, to be his shoulder to cry on when he needed it, and Usnavi? Leaving. Without a glance back., leaving his puzzle with a gaping hole.

"Don't act like you don't hear me!" _Fuck_.

Sonny slips into the bodega. _Solid_. He's solid, he won't budge. He won't cry over someone who was never there. "State your purpose."

Usnavi hands him money, tells him to spend it, and Sonny just scoffs. "So it all comes down to this? My severance package?" He knows he's pushing it, but he's pissed. Is he really this much nothing?

Pete's on his bench, running his fingers over his cans. Again. The numbers haven't changed.

Pete can't stop thinking about Sonny. What's he going to do? Pete can't very well invite Sonny to stay with him.

Even if he could, he wouldn't go long without kissing Sonny, and… Sonny's straight. He doesn't even want to think about what would happen if he kissed Sonny.

Vanessa steps into the bodega, and Usnavi all but forgets about Sonny's existence, so Sonny leaves with a huff.

Pete's on the bench and they both smile and look away, neither exactly sure where they stand. They were mad- and then Abuela died…

Sonny slides onto the bench beside Pete. "Hey."

Pete looks up and drinks Sonny in. He's still beautiful. "Sorry," he mutters finally. "I don't think of you as a kid, it's just… And I don't hate Usnavi either."

Sonny glances away because it's painfully amazing to see, hear, and _feel_ Pete so heartfelt. "My fault, bro, I was in a bad place. Hell, I still am. It's been a pretty shit day, so when you said that stuff about Usnavi…"

Pete smiles, and it's so dazzling Sonny wonders if maybe, just maybe, he could dedicate his whole life to making that smile stay forever.

"Say something, dude, this is so awkward!"

Pete chuckles. Sonny is so, _so,_ cute; he wants to kiss that blush away. "What do you want me to say?" because right now, Pete's mind is blank, except for Sonny, who shines so bright, nothing else matters. Not his house that isn't a home, not the broken puzzle that's scattered at his feet. He can see silhouettes of Vanessa and Usnavi drinking from a bottle. They _cannot_ seriously be celebrating abandoning such a phenomenal person.

"I don't know, what are you thinking right now?" Sonny asks, truly curious, because Pete's glow has faded and he's nearly glaring at the bodega.

Pete glances over at him and admits easily, "I'm thinking you're an amazing, awesome dude and you deserve better."

Sonny blinks at him, seems to hesitate, then wraps Pete in a tight hug.

Pete is warm and strong and present. Even though Pete does most things half-heartedly or casually, his hugs are the real thing. Sonny loves it.

Pete does too. Pete loves Sonny holding him tight like he just might matter. He loves Sonny's cheek pressed against his shoulder because he's so adorably short. They fit like two pieces of a puzzle.

"I have an idea." Sonny announces into Pete's neck, making Pete shiver with the warm breath leaving sparkles on his skin. Sonny draws back.

"Mmmm?" Pete raises his eyebrows, wishing Sonny would fall back into his arms. He grabs his backpack, ready to go somewhere.

Sonny grins, whispering into Pete's ear, but Pete can't even focus on the wods, because he's too busy imagining just how gay this could get. That is, until he hears the word _paint._ Soon, he's all ears, and trying to refuse the money Sonny is pushing into his hand.

"C'mon bro, take the money!" Sonny urges Pete. He is _not_ going to rope Pete in and not pay him for the materials.

Pete shakes his head. "I'll do this just for you, keep the money." He grins as Sonny stumbles over his next words, a flush crawling up Sonny's neck. _There's nothing I won't do for you,_ Pete almost insists.

_Just for me._That sounds romantic coming out of Pete's perfect lips. "Dude, you got money for the paint?"

Pete splutters, and Sonny claps him on the shoulder, shoving several bills into his hand. "My consolation prize," he informs Pete, who laughs. Well, maybe Sonny will spend the rest of his life trying for that laugh instead. Or both.

Pete counts the bills as he pulls Sonny along, away from the bodega that Usnavi and Vanessa are exiting, holding an empty bottle of champagne and each other.

"I hope this works," Pete mutters to himself as he hefts his backpack, hearing the metal cans he still has clang inside. He can't bear the thought of letting Sonny down.

Sonny glances up. Pete always acted so confident about his art; he didn't know Pete had insecurities. Of any kind, really. "I know it will," he promises both of them. "You're an artist, after all."

Pete sighs, although he lets a tiny smile creep onto his face as Sonny follows him through the isles of his favorite art store. Sonny actually respects him as an artist. That word fills an empty spot, a piece that belongs.

Sonny loves the expression on Pete's face, childlike delight as if he'd love to stay for forever. It's a good look on him, just like everything else.

Usnavi and Vanessa stumble past the shop window, tipsy and laughing, both too absorbed in each other to see Sonny stiffen- he'd bet his bottom dollar that Sonny isn't even an afterthought in the subconscious of Usnavi's mind. Is he even a piece of Usnavi's puzzle at all?

He is happy for Usnavi- finally getting his girl, achieving his dream of going back home- but why did it have to happen before Sonny even had dreams at all? _Family looks out for each other. _Or so he thought.

Still, he can't help smiling at the two, who look so blissed out, he can't really be angry.

"Like I said," Pete sighed, "You deserve better. You deserve _more._" He's picked out colors how, and can't stand the longing and disappointment etched into Sonny's entire frame- although it could make a pretty great portrait: Full length, the handsome face wistful, eyes lit with unconditional love-

"Hey, Pete?" Sonny blinks as Pete, who's staring.

Pete just shakes his head. "You'd make a gorgeous portrait, you know. You're like, hella expressive with your- uh- body and you alsoyoulookreallygorgeous. Anyway. It's dope you're still happy for the guy."

Pete drags Sonny out to the grate, grinning softly to himself at Sonny's splutter. Sonny is stumbling over his own thoughts- did Pete just stumble while talking about Sonny's body? Did Pete just call him _gorgeous?_

Pete's cans come out in haphazard rows, and though Pete shifts under Sonny's watch, he's comforted by Sonny's faith anyway and gets to work, rolling his shoulders and losing himself in swirling colors and emotions.

Pete uses red love, orange joy, coffee brown remembrance and black grief and curving lines of care and community he felt that night in the chorus of sobs and the sea of hugs.

Sonny watches the tension in Pete's back melt as Pete moves like liquid, reaching, spraying, pouring with his whole body like it's a dance that Sonny longs to be part of.

Sonny doesn't stop watching as Pete paints his heart out, paints Sonny's heart out. Paints their puzzle.

Love, love, love.


	8. Finale Part 1

Pete was so tired, but it was worth it; he can't deny it's his greatest art piece, like, ever.

Sonny's already passed the _tired_ mark and entered the awake zone again- he swears this is a real thing because it happens every time he stays up _late_ late.

Pete, though, Pete looks as though he's about to collapse. The mural on the grate is obviously finished, and Sonny slips underneath Pete's arm, blushing as Pete sags tiredly onto him. "C'mon," Sonny murmurs, "You can… you can stay over at our place tonight."

Pete stumbles and blushes, trying to act as though that was because he was tired and not because he was just invited to sleep at his crush's place. "Sure. Thanks man, thanks so much."

"All you, all you." Sonny can't even with Pete, who just thanked him for a bed for a night when he literally just stayed up all night for Sonny. Pete already knows he's not going to be able to sleep, not with Sonny right there. And Sonny is wondering whether he should go for it or volunteer to sleep on the floor.

Pete blinks at the single bed, every cell in his body suddenly sparking. "Dude. Where are you sleeping?" Maybe, just maybe…?

Sonny is blushing so hard, he can't possibly say it. "I wasn't going to," he shrugs instead.

He barely has time to register how sexy Pete's pack is as Pete pulls off his shirt before Pete pulls them both into the bed and Sonny can't think anymore except that if he's going to sleep he should take the hat off.

Sonny was looking at Pete's chest. He could tell. He saw Sonny's eyes travel down, he saw Sonny's tongue flick out just a bit. Just once. Pete can't face Sonny, not without pushing Sonny into the bed, kissing that blush right off Sonny's face, pulling Sonny's shirt off…

Sonny is pulling his own shirt off, appearing self conscious, but Pete is _this close_ to drooling. He's not sure whether to curse the air for being to hot or fall on his knees and thank it feverishly. Sonny's gorgeous under that shirt, gorgeous with short black curls that spring below that baseball cap of his.

Sonny can't believe he's pulling his shirt off: he's a normal guy and Pete- well, Pete is expectedly muscular… crazy hot. Sonny is gald when Pete turns over so they're not facing each other because Sonny's seriously considering putting his shirt back on, hundred degree temperature bedamned.

Pete's shoulders look smooth, firm, strong. Sonny can see Pete's muscles in his neck move as he thanks him.

"No prob," Sonny replies, trying to sound tired. Honestly, he's going to stare at Pete's shoulders all night, he already knows.

Pete's heart is racing. He can feel Sonny's eyes on his back, and he can't dispel the feeling that Sonny won't like what he sees, even though he knows he's got a nice body. Sonny is special, and Pete's nervous. He casually stretches, flexing the muscles in his back, shoulders, and arms.

Sonny can't tear his eyes away. He's never been so attracted to someone ever. Pete's got the lean build of a dancer. When Pete stretches- wow. "Oh." he whispers. _Shit._

Pete smiles softly to himself. _Oh_. Maybe he's okay after all. Maybe they do fit.

Sonny blinks groggily into the light that streams through the windows, since the curtains are crap and practically threadbare. Stretching, he hits a warm body that is firm but not rock hard like Usnavi's bony frame.

"Bro." Graffiti Pete groans (wow, that's hot) at being jabbed so early in the morning before he realizes who it was. (If he'd known it was Sonny, he probably would've said _thank you_.) "Oh, hey. Uh." Whoa. That's right. Sonny's shirtless.

Pete is too, actually, and Pete can see Sonny's eyes drinking him in like morning coffee, but he's no better. His milk-tea cream skin, his light sprinkling of hair and his- Pete's eyes keep flitting back to Sonny's nipples, hard even though the morning is still stiflingly warm.

Sonny can't move, can't breathe until Pete slips his sleeveless on, because Pete's the most gorgeous being in existence, from his smooth skin to his muscled stomach, the underwear peeking suggestively from Pete's sagging pants…

"Let's go, man!" Pete's tugging on Sonny's hand, and Sonny fumbles for his shirt, ruby red. Pete almost regrets urging Sonny faster, wishing he could take the time to fully appreciate Sonny shirtless, since this is probably the only time he'll get the chance.

Soon the two of them are at the grate so Pete can check to see it in the new light of the morning. Sighing with relief, he sees that there are no spots where the paint has run, despite the spray cans being fuller than he's used to and the sky being dark.

Sonny gazes at the sunlit portrait of Abuela, rendered in gorgeous curves and bold, witty edges, glowing with color that fills the air and heart with love and admiration- both for Abuela and for Pete because _god,_ Pete. There are no words.

"What it do? Great sunlight this morning!" Pete finally allows himself a bit of slack, unable to deny that it looks great.

Sonny, spotting Usnavi walking down the street, rolls up the grate, wondering at how nonchalant Pete can be about such an incredible work.

Actually, Pete's freaking out inside. It looks really good, technically. But what happens if it's not enough? If Pete lets Sonny down…

Gathering his courage, Sonny calls out to his cousin. "Yo, cuz, we fixed the grate!"

Both boys are thinking the same thing: _I hope this piece fits._


	9. Finale Part 2

Usnavi turns at the sound of Sonny's voice, but both Pete and Sonny can't miss the way his expression hardens when he catches sight of Pete. "Yo, what'd I tell you about this punk."

Pete's ready to bolt, but pulls on a casual exterior the way others pull on a sweatshirt. This was a bad idea, and it's about to fail right before his eyes.

Sonny stiffens, catching the way Pete stops flowing like water, freezing up. "You have to commission an artist while his rate is still good." he knows how much Pete lights up at being called an artist, and he's definitely earned the title.

Sure enough, Pete's shoulders relax a bit as he pulls down the grate. "It's the first work in my new series." An _artist_. Pete sure as fuck is. He feels like one, at least, when Sonny's eyes fill with the painting like it's the missing piece to his life.

Usnavi looks incredulously from Pete to Abuela, too, his skepticism running off his face as he takes in the bright colors and lovingly rendered words swirling at the bottom. _Paciencia y fe_.

Usnavi swallows, and finally seems to find his voice, asking Pete, "You did this last night?" Pete nods nervously, and Sonny wants to slip his fingers under Pete's chin and tell him to look up, to look proud, because he's got so much to be proud of. "There goes my flight!"

Sonny's jaw drops. He can't- he can't. He can't believe it. "Wha-?"

"Graffiti Pete, finish up, you're gonna need some new cans," Usnavi offers a bunch of bills to Pete, who fumbles with them. "Here's some money, finish up, there's been a slight change of plans.

"Nice," is all Pete can muster, his head spinning with possibilities. He can indulge his more expensive wishes now… and he still can't comprehend that _Usnavi _just gave _Pete_ his _plane money. Shit._

Sonny's mind is blank because it's the only way he can keep from getting bowled over by a wave of thoughts.

"Listen up guys, you got a job, I'm not playing: you gotta go now, tell the whole block I'm staying." Usnavi is grinning now, slipping back into the freestyle Sonny knew he'd miss if Usnavi left.

"Go ahead, tell everyone you know! Sonny…" Usnavi chokes on something, gesturing to his heart, and Sonny has to swipe at his eyes before tears spill into his smile. "Alright, go!"

And Sonny does. He can barely believe his own words as they flow from his mouth, a river that's been dammed and is now finally released. "Usnavi's staying. Usnavi's staying, no he's not going to the DR. He's _staying._" And every time, he's convincing himself as much as eh is Benny, Vanessa, Daniela.

Pete… Pete carries the message too, glad Usnavi has decided to stay despite everything. Usnavi's a great guy, clearly, and if he left, Pete doesn't know if he could've endured Sonny's misery- so all in all, this is a victory. Maybe it doesn't do anything for Pete's puzzle, but it sure does for Sonny's.

Still. It takes less than an hour for the tight knit community to gather around Usnavi, who's walking about the neighborhood in wonder like he's never seen it before.

It's just like Abuela's death, just the other side of the coin: the hugging, laughing, smiling, high fives and pats on the back side. And just like Abuela's death, Pete is watching people pass, waving through a window. Sonny was waving back these past few days, but now Pete's no longer useful, and no one's waving back anymore. Why would they? He's still an edge piece.

Usnavi grins at all the people, and Sonny glows as he watches Usnavi reacquaint himself with the here and now. And he wouldn't of stayed if Sonny hadn't offered the idea! He's done something for once, without Usnavi telling him to, and Usnavi is loving it.

None of it could have happened without wonderful, beautiful, graceful, gorgeous, strong Pete. Sonny's pretty sure he's in love, and he should stop staring- but now that he's not staring he's actually seeing, Pete doesn't look to thrilled.

Of course, he never liked Usnavi that much, but he doesn't seem mad or anything, just unhappy. He's not laughing and smiling with everyone else.

For that matter, he's not _with_ anyone else- that's the word: wistful. Pete looks wistful. But the sad kind, like he's let something go.

Sonny's about to jog over to him when Pete slings his backpack over his shoulder and goes away, something between a walk and a job, still as graceful as ever.

Pete should have known better than to think he'd gain a friend just by hanging out with him for just a few days, let alone more than a friend. Who was he kidding? Sonny only put up with him because Pete was the necessary worker in Sonny's grand scheme to keep the last person that still mattered to him: Usnavi.

No one cared about Pete. No one even noticed when he left the-

"Pete!" Sonny is a little out of breath because Pete has absentmindedly upped his pace to a jog, but he doesn't care because when Pete turns around, he looks so lonely there's not way Sonny can be self-conscious about his _breathing _for Pete's sake.

Pete's unable to keep the confusion out of his voice, even as he tries to sound casual. "Hey man."

Sonny hesitates, shifting from foot to foot. He didn't think this far. _Where are you going?_ Sounds like Pete has an obligation to stay with Sonny, which isn't the case. _What's up?_ Sounds like it's an everyday conversation, which Sonny sincerely hopes it's not.

Pete also doesn't know what to say, because Sonny's blushing for no reason- except maybe the reason is that Sonny doesn't actually want to be in Pete's company. "Ay, yo, go back to your cousin, man."

Oh. Is that Pete's problem? Sonny shrugs. "He's staying. I've got all the time I want with him. Maybe I-" Sonny swallows when Pete raises an eyebrow at Sonny's nonchalance. He can feel the blush rising in his cheeks as he splutters. 'Well, I… maybe I'd rather hang out with you."

Sonny is blushing, Sonny is stuttering, Sonny is blurting he'd rather not hang out with his all-time favorite person- if this isn't a sign, Pete doesn't know what is. Still… "I thought you liked Nina." Jesus, talk about blurting things out.

Sonny looks surprised and ducks his head quickly. Can Pete see through him that easily? He shakes off the question because he could spend all day thinking about it, but he won't. "I… did. I don't really, not anymore." _I like you now._ Sonny doesn't say it. He steps closer, though, and they're a foot apart.

Sonny isn't making the first move. Pete has to go for it. Pete leans in. he doesn't want to force anything on Sonny if he's reading this wrong, so he kisses him chastely on the cheek.

Sonny's eyes widen. Pete just _kissed_ him! Now Pete's pulling away, so Sonny tips his head pu and presses his lips to Pete's. Another piece of the puzzle falls into place.


	10. Noticed

The rest of the world falls away to Sonny and Pete because all either of them can feel is each other as Pete's hand gently finds Sonny's waist and Sonny presses into Pete, his hand on Pete's neck. It's sweet and beautiful and even though it feels like everything he's ever wanted, it's not enough, so Pete parts his lips just a little.

Sonny's been waiting for this, wanting this, but he's not sure how seriously Pete takes them so he's indescribably relieved when Pete's the one to invite him in.

It's wonderful. It's special. It's a unique kind of ecstacy all on it's own that even heaven can't beat, because this is here and now; this is Sonny and Pete.

Reluctantly, the two pull away from each other, but their faces are still close enough that Sonny can feel Pete's warm breath and Pere can feel Sonny's racing pulse through his shirt.

Pete runs his hand over his head and then drops his arm, not quite sure what comes next. "I, um."

It's Sonny, bolstered by the kiss, who makes the leap. "You're coming with me." He grabs Pete's hand drags him back in the direction of everyone else, thought he's not sure exactly what happens when they get there.

Pete's not sure what Sonny's got in mind either he definitely know it's not the one thing he can think of. He asks anyway. "Are we?"

"No." Sonny knows what Pete wants to ask, and as much as he'd love to be, he's not ready to come out to anyone yet. Plus he's not even sure what they are- not really a couple if they've only kissed once and neither's asked the other out.

Pete really wants to ask Sonny out. He really really wants to be able to call Sonny his boyfriend. God, that word. Boyfriend. Even though he's gay, he's only ever had girlfriends. And his mom… his dad knew. His dad knew and kept his promise. He never told a soul, as far as Pete knows.

The two of them stumble upon the small cluster of people laughing and smiling, but neither wants to let go of the others' hand, so Sonny holds up Pete's hand instead, like a curtain call. Pete's savoring every moment their hands are still connected. It won't last.

"Graffiti Pete did the mural," Sonny announces loudly above the chatter. "He's officially amazing!"

Pete hopes people are peggin the red in his cheeks on the stifling heat. Sonny's still putting off dropping Pete's hand, but he does when Daniela pulls Pete into the scraggly circle of people, who elvelope Pete in as if he's always been on the inside.

Sonny. Sonny is grinning like a maniac because Pete's just told Usnavi that it was Sonny's idea, and finally Usnavi is giving Sonny his undivided attention.

Pete is finally getting to see Sonny's whole face light up like fireworks on the Fourth of July and everyone around him is finally noticing that he exists.

Sonny doesn't even say anything as Usnavi reaches him; instead he launches himself into Usnavi's arms, trying to hug like Pete does- with all of his heart, with all of his love. And without missing a beat, Usnavi hugs his back fiercely. "Thanks man."

Sonny's head is swirling and he can only breath, "Yeah."

"You painting that?!" Carla widens her eyes dramatically and flutters her lashes as she saunters up. "Could you make me that beautiful?" She strikes a pose and stumbles so she's leaning into him.

Sonny stiffens, his cheeks blooming with color as Pete's body tenses.

Carla whispers into Pete's ear, "You should ask him out." Pete turns bright red to the tips of his ears, and Sonny wonders with a twisting stomach what they're saying to each other until Carla steps back. "He said he's already into someone else," she whines to Daniela as Daniela pulls her away.

Pete's eyes widen. He did not. Although he is, obviously. Maybe too obviously. Sonny's eyes widen too, and he shoves his hands aggressively into his pockets.

Pete goes with it. After all, he really does. He looks up at Sonny, who ducks his head. Adorable.

As much as both of them are absolutely elated to be noticed, it's blessing no one else notices them.

The sun is burning hot, and Sonny's sure he'll be burned to a crisp soon. Thankfully, Usnavi feels the same, it seems, because he calls for lunch in the bodega. Kind of an awkward place, but at least it's indoors.

Pete and Sonny stand beside each other as the rest of them file in. Sonny bites his lip. Pete fiddles with the strap of his backpack.

"Sonny!" Usnavi holds open the door. "Graffiti Pete! C'mon, yo, get in here!"

Sonny beams. Pete almost smiles. They go in, closing the door behind them and enjoying the blissful shade.

This time, people look up when they walk in, wave and say hi.

This time, they're really here.

Usnavi slips them all soda pops on the house, except for Sonny, who decides to have a slushie instead, and they collectively sigh with relief as the cold comes seeming through the searing hot like water into the cracks in the dry cement.

Soda sparkles and pops as Usnavi raises his can up. "A toast to these two," he announces, gesturing to heat-flushed Pete and red-lipped Sonny. "Thanks both of you, for keeping me here, this is my home. Thanks for making me see that."

Pete shrugs, easy and smooth, "No sweat," as Sonny grins. "Of course."

Sonny can't help but love the way the two of their voices smooth over each other.

As much as both of them are absolutely elated to be noticed, it's blessing no one else notices them.

Should this be almost done with a sweet ending or get more serious? Because I feel like they'd get to it pretty fast.


	11. You Deserve Better

Pete isn't Usnavi's biggest fan, but watching him laugh and blush beside Usnavi like a fool in love makes it impossible to dislike him. Usnavi's complicated, and if he can invite Pete in, Pete can learn to ease up too. People are puzzles with lots of different pieces.

Everyone's laughing and talking- not around them, but with them. This time, they're part of the puzzle.

"He's not so bad, huh?" Pete jumps a little as Sonny murmurs into his ear and nudges him a little.

Pete shrugs lightly. "No one's perfect, and you deserve perfection." But he smiles, and Sonny can't help but smile back, inching closer to Pete.

By the end of lunch, they're nearly pressed knee to thigh.

"What you plan to do with that money?" Sonny inquires curiously as they walk out of the bodega together in the hot sun.

Pete raises an eyebrow. "What do you think?"

"Can I come?" Sonny can't remove the image of Pete's face, childlike wonder of a kid in a candy store, and he doesn't want to.

Pete winks. "What do you think?" _Yes, of course, yes._

Sonny can't keep a shy smile from creeping onto his lips as he hazards a guess. "Yes?" It morphs into a full fledged grin when Pete grabs his hand to pull him along. Their hands lock like pieces of a puzzle.

"Hell yes."

Sonny spends the rest of his afternoon trailing eagerly after Pete, strolling through isles of spray paint, racks of acrylics, watercolors, and shelves stacked with thick and thin papers of different shades and textures.

It's amazing here and Pete can't keep his fingers from wandering over each new medium the way he's always wanted to.

The sun is nearly gone, flashlights are turning on when Sonny and Pete finally step out of the shop, Pete's backpack full and Pete carrying a couple cans.

"Here- let me." Sonny takes several cans and a set of brushes from Pete, who gives him a grateful smile and blushes when Sonny's hands linger longer than they need to.

Pete does hope his nervousness isn't showing, 'cuz he was going to drop these off at his house… he doesn't know an alternative spot. He motions for Sonny to follow, and he does, wondering why Pete's gone quiet and isn't walking like water anymore.

"Uh. Well." Pete stops in front of his house, but doesn't go in, eyeing Sonny's full arms. He really doesn't need Sonny to come in and see his house, or his mother. This is a piece of his puzzle he'd rather not share.

Uncomfortable is written all over Pete, from the way he's standing to the tense set of his shoulders to how he doesn't look Sonny in the eye, so Sonny hands back the things he has in his arms and pushes open the door, not looking inside.

"Thanks." Pete mutters, slipping past Sonny, trying not to think about how Sonny picked up on it. He tosses his armful on his bed and then drops his backpack on as well. Sonny's still waiting.

Sonny looks up as Pete steps back out, closing the door behind him. He doesn't really know what they're doing now. "Today's been-"

"Great."

"Yeah."

They stand awkwardly together, gazing at each other. Pete doesn't want Sonny to leave, which is perfect because Sonny doesn't want to. _Well._ Pete thinks. _He's right here._

He's just leaning when the door behind him opens and Pete jumps back to see his mom at the door. "Get your damn shit off my bed-"

"It's actually mine-"

"It's _his?"_ an angry voice calls from behind Pete's mom and Pete's ready to explode. It's not even the same guy as last time. "You want me to _sleep_ on his- I thought it was your-" Sonny looks back and forth in confusion.

"It _is_. It's mine, isn't it, Pete?" Pete's mom is glaring daggers at Pete, but Pete's had enough.

"Nope." Pete throws his hand up, and it's the first time Sonny's seen Pete lose his cool composure. "Even though you make _me_ sleep on the floor _anyway._"

The guy pulls his arm from around Pete's mom's shoulders, and now Pete, Sonny, and this guy are all glaring at her. "I'll just-" the guy offers, jerking his thumb over to a parked car.

Pete shoves his hands into his pockets. "Me too." He storms off, Sonny trailing cautiously behind.

"You can stay with us again," Sonny suggests hopefully, a little out of breath when he catches up.

Pete snaps his gaze to Sonny's face, surprised. "Nah, I can't ask you-"

"Not asking, I'm insisting," Sonny argues, pulling Pete by the arm. "Where you planning to sleep, bro?"

Pete doesn't have an answer for that one. He wasn't really planning when he.. "Look, sorry about that. My mom- back there was…"

"You standing up for yourself like you should. Ain't nobody make their son sleep on the floor so this other guy who ain't even been in the house can sleep on _your bed_, damn it. This happen all the time?"

Pete suddenly feels defensive. "She's not all that bad. She's only fucking away her grief, you know, after Dad died. She went ballistic. This is her trying not to drug her feelings away, man."

"Damn." Sonny doesn't even know what to say to something like that. "I'm sorry, man." Pulling open the door, Sonny turns to Pete, hesitating. "Can I-"

They're standing so close. He's breathless.

"Yeah." Pete is too.

Sonny presses his lips to Pete's, wordlessly telling him Pete what he'd just told Sonny. _You deserve better._

Sonny rolls over to catch sight of Pete beside him in bed and blushes bright red, grateful for the dim light of the morning and the fact that Pete's obviously asleep.

While Sonny always sleeps a little curled- not tight but on his side like a halfway unfurled fern leaf- Pete's clearly the opposite. He's lies on his back, his long limbs stretched in different directions, one hanging off the bed and the other pressed against Sonny. His legs are spread, and Sonny fights his dirty thoughts tooth and nail.

He's pretty when he's sleeping, his dark lashes against his dark skin, his breathing peaceful and protective.

Sonny's just about to slip out of bed when Pete stirs, fluttering his thick lashes and murmuring something incoherent. He stretches and opens his eyes. Sonny. He can only see Sonny, which makes sense because they're faces are half a foot apart. Sonny is awake, watching with a sort of longing what makes Pete's heart race.

"Hey."

"Hey."

Sonny's center piece might be Pete now.


	12. It's Official

"Pete?" Pete wants to reach out and tip Sonny's chin up, tell Sonny not to be so shy.

"Yeah?"

Sonny reaches up as if to lift his cap, but his hand falls back as he realizes he's not wearing it. He sits up in bed so he doesn't have to see Pete's face when he asks, "What are we, exactly?"

Pete swallows, his heart thudding so loudly, he's sure it's going to fly out of his chest. "Boyfriends?" He gets up too, trying to walk casually instead of as if he feels his whole soul is going to die or thrive on the answer.

Sonny bites his lip. Should he say yes? He knows Pete's got experience; what if he's just another conquest? What if Pete breaks his heart? Then again, that possibility still stands when they're not dating.

"Or, well, I guess not." Pete mumbles quickly, but he slaps on a grin and pulls Sonny around to face him.

Sonny really wishes he said yes now, but what can he do? He drinks in shirtless Pete, his abs, his chest-

"But," Pete smiles and the world lights up in the dim morning. "We can be." He lays one hand on Sonny's waist and grabs Sonny's hand with the other. "Sonny de la Vega, will you go out with me?"

Oh my god. "Yes." Sonny whispers, his fingers locking around Pete's. Pete's whole face lights up, and Sonny just knows the clouds have parted- it's so hot they both have their shirts off.

Which is ideal for kissing, Pete is quick to observe. "Good answer," Pete approves, and promptly pins Sonny against the nearest wall in a heated kiss.

Sonny gasps and Pete takes the opportunity to slip his tongue between Sonny's lips, his head turning just a but to slide their mouths together softly. It's easy, like two puzzle pieces meant to be.

Sonny's more shy, his tongue sliding slowly in, timidly exploring Pete's hot, wet mouth as Pete does the same to Sonny with reckless abandon.

Sonny is soft and silky sweet, Pete is rough and tastes slightly like apples.

"It's official," Pete all but pants when they finally pull apart. "I got a boyfriend, bitch."

Sonny kisses Pete's jawline chastely before pulling back a bit more, shyly. "You never had...?" he's blushing.

"Nope, never. Girlfriends, yeah, but they weren't all that fun, you know, 'cuz I'm," Pete stops and runs a hand over his head. "I'm. I'm gay." To say it outloud is to find the piece he's been looking for, the one that's been missing.

"Wow."

"Not a surprise, right? I mean, 'cuz we're-" Here Pete gestures to the two of them, still inches apart.

Sonny just shakes his head. "No, but-" he knows he sounds stupid. "You said it, you know? Outloud. Who else?"

"No one." Pete looks down and sighs. "Well, my dad. But he's… gone now, so." A space that will never be filled.

Sonny takes his hand, squeezing it softly. "I'm sorry."

Pete shakes his head. "Nah, it's fine." He stares at their interlaced fingers. "Who you told?"

"No one. Usnavi… he might be a homophobe."

"Oh." Homophobic has no place in Sonny's puzzle.

"Yeah."

"Well," Pete reasons, you don't know 'till you ask."

Sonny's head jerks up. "I'm not asking. Hell no."

Pete pulls him close, both of them revelling in their chests pressed together, bare skin on skin. "I'm ready when you are."

Sonny relaxes into Pete. "Thanks, you know, for no pressure."

Pete only shrugs. "Common decency. It's nice though, to know people know that piece of you."

Sonny knows what he means. No one can see you whole puzzle if you don't show them all the pieces.

"But until then," Pete smiles, "It's just you and me."

Sonny loops his arms around Pete's neck, pulling him down for another kiss, still not quite believing he can. "It's official."

When Pete waves a reluctant goodbye to go to work, his lips tingling with kisses and his skin still flushed red, neither of them feel too down because every look back is a promise. More. Later. Again.

Sonny catches that promise in his hands, tucks it away into a pocket in his heart where it beats reminders to him all day in the bodega. It gently pushes the broken pieces of the puzzle in his heart closer together. Closer, closer, closer.

Pete takes the same promise with him to work, where José picks up on his glow like it's slapped Pete onto his gaydar, and manages to shine light on one piece of Pete's puzzle, even if the light's only visible to a few: Pete's gay. Teasing reduces Pete to a mess of wide eyes and blushes, but he's smiling.

"Hey Daniela." Sun nearly hits the rooftops when Daniela pops into the bodega for an afternoon coffee. "Tell me something I don't know."

Daniela grinned wide. "Julio and José-" Sonny shoots a glance at Usnavi, but Usnavi doesn't seem disturbed- "are together!" Daniela narrows her eyes at Sonny as if trying to provoke a reaction- and it works because Sonny's suddenly struggling to breathe.

"Well hello there," Carla giggles, her fingers tapping next to the register where Pete's working. "Can I steal you after your shift? You, your boyfriend, Daniela, and me are having a discussion."

"Can I grab Sonny? Don't worry, he'll get to bed on time," Daniela teases, ruffling Sonny's hair. Sonny rolls his eyes. It's like she's a grandmother, when he knows she's the around same age as Carla- 23.

When Pete's already in the room Daniela drags him to, pieces of the puzzle start falling into place.


	13. Welcome to the Club

"So."

"What's up with you two?"

"I mean, it's pretty-"

"Obvious, the way you two…"

"Eye fuck each other."

"Um." Pete shifts from foot to foot and Sonny just stares, eyes wide. "What?"

"Do you guys have a fan?"

"Girl, you didn't put that on?"

"No, why?" Carla sets her hands on her hips, orange curls bouncing as she shakes her head.

Making an exasperated noise in her throat, Daniela rolls her eyes. "'Cuz it's hella hot!"

Carla's smirk only widens at this. "No, you're just really hot."

Sonny nudges Pete, who leans down so he can hear Sonny whisper, "Are they… are they like us?"

A small smile slips onto Pete's lips. "Let's find out." He straightens up.

"So," Pete begins, grinning devilishly.

Sonny catches on immediately and finishes without missing a beat. "What's up with you two?"

The answer to that makes itself obvious when Daniela kisses Carla fiercely. Their hands don't even bother to keep it PG, from their hair to their chest to waist to the curves that Pete has always avoided.

"Well, that's what's up!" Pete crows approvingly, leaving Sonny to shove his hands in his pockets and try to act normal. "I had no fucking idea."

Carla breaks away, tucking a stray curl behind her ear and straightening her shirt. "We're… kinda in the closet. Actually. But, you know, you guys were, um…"

"So gay," Daniela supplies tactlessly.

"Yeah. And so we thought, you know, you could be the first- our first coming out?"

"Good reaction," observes Daniela.

Sonny reaches for Pete's hand, his fingers hesitant. "We, uh…" he swallows around the lump in his throat but soldiers on when Pete's fingers close around his own. He does want to do this. "Dating. We're… boyfriends."

It can be incredible what words can do when they flow from the mouth like molten gold and decide to shine. Sonny thought that coming out was this scary obligation, but saying the words out loud is opening a box of puzzle pieces he's tucked away and realizing they're the ones he's been missing this whole time.

He almost runs out the door to tell everyone else. Almost.

"Yes," Daniela agrees decidedly.

"I just had to say it out loud." Sonny's expression is irresistibly perfect; nervously proud, and Pete has to use all of his self control not to kiss the lips that just said boyfriends.

Carla extends a pale arm, and the rest of them put their hands in.

Sonny jumps in to count it off. "For gays hiding in the same closet-" Pete snorts- "To sharing a closet!"

Cheesy though it is, Pete can't help an infectious grin from conquering his face. Sonny's laughs manage to spread, and soon the four are sprawled companionably on the couch.

Pete locks Sonny in a quick kiss. "Welcome to the club."

Sonny sits up quickly, holding up a finger. "First order of business: who and when are you guys coming out? To whom," he corrects himself without pause.

"Parents, someday." Carla muses, sharing at the ceiling.

Daniela agrees. "Someday, someday." She interlocks her fingers with Carla's.

Pete nods in agreement. "Me too, but sometimes I hate my mom."

The only one quiet, Sonny watches his fingers gloat over Pete's bare stomach where his shirt has ridden up. "Usnavi, I think, except I'm… what if he's not chill with me?"

Sympathetic clucks and pats come at him from all sides as Carla urges, "Talk to him! You'll never know if you don't."

Sonny groans, "How?" and buries his face in Pete's chest.

Pete lifts Sonny's cap off and runs his fingers through the curls, trying not to blush fiercely. He's this close to kissing Sonny as if no one else is there. "We can kidnap him and force him to tell us he love you no matter what. You don't even gotta be there, it just be me and Daniela and Carla."

Sonny's breath is warm on Pete's collarbone and Pete's own breath becomes short as Sonny murmurs, "Thanks." against his skin.

"Hey hey hey," Pete taps Sonny's shoulder, signalling him to roll over, and Sonny complies with a pout.

"Daniela? We should…"

"Ay, stop it, this is like a ghetto soap opera!" Daniela swats Carla's hand away, but gets up reluctantly when Carla shoots her a look.

"Listen man," Pete murmurs as the girls leav, promising to be back soon. "You're the most perfect guy I ever fucking met, okay? If he ain't cool with you, it's his own fucking loss."

Sonny kisses his way up to Pete's neck, going for his lips, but Pete places a finger on Sonny's lips and shushes him. He needs Sonny's confirmation. "Okay?"

Sonny fights a smile, but his lips twitch just a bit. "Okay." he whispers softly. He pushes the finger away and kisses Pete softly, swiping Pete's lover lip eagerly and diving in as soon as Pete parts his lips.

Sonny rests his head in the warm crook of Pete's neck when they pull away, and Pete can feel Sonny's hair tickling his chin.

"I'll talk to him," Sonny sighs eventually, getting up.

"Now?" Pete groans, missing the warmth.

Shrugging, Sonny pulls open the door. "No time like the present."

Finding Carla and Daniela has tossed Pete and Sonny several pieces. Now Sonny's on the hunt for the last few he needs to feel complete.


	14. The Final Puzzle Piece

Chapter 14: The Final Puzzle Piece

"He's back!"

Sonny can hardly believe he's being acknowledged, but change is real, it seems, so Sonny flashes a grin and makes himself a multi-flavored slushie, hoping to freeze his stomach before he throws up his nerves.

"Sonny! Come over here, best man!" Vanessa waves her hand, continuing, "We were just talking about Julio and Juan- isn't it crazy?"

"Are they gay?" The word _gay_ gets caught in his throat and comes out squeaky.

Vanessa sends him a strange look, pointing out, "They gotta be, right?"

His cheeks reddening, Sonny stares at the spot directly to the right of Vanessa's face. "They could be bisexual or- or something." God, _bisexual_ came out even worse. The coffee stain on the table is suddenly extremely intriguing.

"Or pan." Sonny's head shoots up so fast, he almost gets a head rush as Usnavi casually continues listing. "Or fluid. Did you know people can be sexually into different people than they're in love with? He could be that, maybe."

Vanessa makes a confused face. "I didn't know that. Let me tell you, I could _not_ tell!"

Usnavi laughs, "Gay people don't act a certain way. There's no way you could've been able to tell, really."

Amazement must've shown on Sonny's face, because Vanessa misreads it. "What, you're not homophobic are you? With all your social justice, I'd imagine-"

"No no no nope. I'm not a homophobe. I'm." Sonny falters and shudders to a stop like a car that's run out of gas. But he's so close to the finish line. "I-" he swallows. "I'm bi. Bisexual. I like girls-"

"And boys." Usnavi finishes for him in astonishment. "God, I- Sonny, I don't know what to say. Thanks for telling me, man!"

His relief swells, an ocean, wave after wave crashing in and pulling him under.

Sonny high fives a surprised Usnavi. _Oh my god, I just came out._

The battery powered fan that Daniela and Carla brought out is starting to falter, and Pete stares up in the stiflingly hot room, imagining Sonny coming out to Usnavi. Sonny is amazing, for lack of a better word- so passionate and big hearted and determined. And he's gorgeous. Eyes like browned crystal and curls that don't deserve to be stuffed under a cap, even if the cap compliments him so well.

But instead of feeling like dead weight, it pushes energy _into_ Pete, like he can do _more_.

And suddenly he _wants_ to. He wants to do something- something _big_\- for himself.

When Pete steps outside, he can easily recognize the street and find his way home. There's a small _G.P._ in graffiti letters on the building he tagged a few weeks ago. He can't be sure which feeling is which when he comes home to find his mother actually home.

With a picture of Pete's dad in her hand.

"Well because you were like _no mi diga_," Sony explains. Usnavi asked him _how long have you known,_ and since Sonny couldn't necessarily answer that, he just blurted out _a month or so-_ the time he's kind of liked Pete.

"Because he was _cheating_, not because he was gay!"

Oh. Well that does make sense.

"Mom?" The reaction is instant: his mom's face closes and her right hand stuffs the picture into her pocket while the left one swipes angrily at her eyes. "You good?" Obviously not. Bad question.

"Pete, you're home." Obviously. Bad observation.

"Don't you have a new boyfriend with you?"

"Why the hell would I?" _Because you always do._

"Is that Dad?"

"No." _I'm pretty sure that picture is of my dad._

"Yes it is. Is that why you don't got a boyfriend? 'Cuz you miss him?" Pete knows it's true, but he needs to hear them.

"So. You like anybody?" prods Usnavi.

Sonny blushes bright red and grins, cheeky. "Maybe." That moment is Pete's, not his.

"Oooh. What's he like?"

Sonny smiles. "Beautiful and strong- oh god, he's so strong."

Usnavi crosses his arms. "Is he older?"

Snapping his mouth shut, Sonny feels a flush crawl up his neck and doesn't answer.

Pete's mom ducks the glare. "You know I do." _She said it. She said it, she said it._

"You can move on." It hurts to squeeze out of his throat.

"I am!" she yells. "You know I am." but they both know she's not. She goes out and distracts herself, but she has to let go just a little- she can walk as far away as she wants, but pieces of her are still stuck in the puzzle of their love until she pulls them away.

Pete knows she must know this. It's in her eyes, which say _I know._ It's in her arms, that hug her body and yell, _I can't, I'm not ready._ Someday she will be. She must know this too.

"This ain't what you came here to talk about."

Pete stares up at the ceiling. She's right, of course. She always has been, even when she's been wrong. "Momma, I'm gay."

"I'm happy too." Pete's mom pulls the picture back out and lies on the bed. "Kidding. I'm a fucking wreck."

"_Mom._" Pete shifts awkwardly, strung tighter than he's ever been before, save when his father's body spread before him like a war declaration.

Pete's mom finally sits back up and gazes at Pete's terrified face. "You know I always love you right? You do you and I ain't got no problem with that, you feel me?"

"_Mom._" Pete exhales, grabbing his mom's hand. _Thank god._ "I love you too."

Sonny's head shoots up as he hears Pete's voice from the doorway of the bodega. "Hey Sonny." _Beautiful. Strong. Perfect._

"So… I came out to Usnavi. And Vanessa." Sonny's grin is so genuine, so unabashed, it's a miracle what being free can do.

"Congrats, man, how'd it go?" Pete's eyes shine with his own news- good news, Sonny can tell.

"Fuck, it was great. They honestly don't give a shit. In the best possible way. What's up with you?"

"What- me? What about me?"

_You're shining. Glowing. You look like you've swallowed the sun._ "You look happy."

"I came out to my mom," Pete's smile is like the flavors you can only have in small doses or you might explode. "She's good with it." Saying it out loud makes it so much more real.

"_Pete._" Sonny's pressing into him, and suddenly they're both aware of how their hands have found each other like magnets, how their faces are inches apart, their bodies pressed tight on the bench.

Pete's looking down into Sonny's eyes, and Sonny can feel Pete's breath, warm and tantalizing. "Yes?"

Sonny nods. "Yes."

Their mouths surge together, and the puzzle is finally complete.


	15. Hanging Out

865 Words

Chapter 16: Hanging Out

**Mentions of smut but I don't actually write it out so… yeah that.**

"We're just hanging out, okay?" insists Sonny as soon as he opens the door. "Usnavi's gonna be back tomorrow."

And then he grins, sparkling like the sun, and laughs the most beautiful laugh Pete's ever heard.

Falling in love with Pete's sly smile is something Sonny is discovering he'll do every day. "Really? So what, exactly, is your idea of _hanging out,_ babe?"

Sonny doesn't say anything. Kissing doesn't take any words.

Opposites attract: Pete has a thing for pinning someone against a wall. Sonny has a thing for getting pinned against a wall. All in all, they've agreed they're rather compatible. Every person is a puzzle piece, and Sonny and Pete find a way to fit together.

"Just hanging out?" smirks Pete as Sonny sinks to his knees.

Sonny smiles, and every inch is mischief. "Just hanging out." But Pete's sagging pants are already on the floor.

His breath already warm through Pete's boxers, Sonny presses two fingers to the waistband of Pete's underwear. "Anything you're good with."

Sonny's curls are soft beneath Pete's fingers. "That's the best fucking definition of hanging out I ever heard."

Turns out, Pete was right about the fucking.

"I think you're always gonna bottom for me," Pete murmurs, his arms sliding to lock around Sonny's body possessively. "We ain't ever switching that shit up."

Sonny rolls over so they're face to face. "I'm good with that."

"'S late."

"I'm the small spoon."

"I'm good with that."

"_HOLY SHIT! _No me diga!" Usnavi's voice goes on to trip over several Spanish cuss words as Sonny blinks groggily, taking in his surroundings.

"What's-" but even as he starts, he realizes what's up. He's naked. In bed with Pete. Who's naked.

At least they cleaned up last night.

Pete stirs. _What the hell?_ Why the fuck is _Usnavi_ waking him up? "_Goddamn_, bro, is that yo cuz?" Pete still hasn't opened his eyes when someone (probably Sonny) shoves a pillow at his crotch. "Ok, ok, I'm awake."

_Oh shit._ Pete's taking in the room. It's clearly not his ideal morning after.

Damn. _Guess someone finally noticed the puzzle._

"_Graffiti Pete?_ Is he- are you- Sonny de la Vega, did you- oh fuck." That last bit was Usnavi realizing the bed is stripped bare because sheets that covered it now cover the clothes on the floor.

"Yo, cuz, meet my boyfriend." Sonny grins easily as if this is no big deal. Pete leans over to kiss the tempting, cheesy smile and Usnavi turns around so he can't see Pete's bare body hovering over his cousin's.

"Beautiful," Pete murmurs.

"Sexy," Sonny shoots back. They're both enjoying this way too much.

Usnavi groans. "Fucking hell," he remarks to the bed stand. His eyes widen as the two teenagers sit up. "Sonny! Is that _lubrication?_ Don't tell me that's lube."

"Ok, I won't."

Curling into Sonny, Pete watches Usnavi. "You have a problem with us?" His voice is even, and Sonny can't help noticing Pete's muscles frozen again. He wants the flowing water that pinned him on the bed, not the ice that can't look him in the eye. Are the puzzle pieces shifting? Changing? What if Pete figures they don't fit anymore because Usnavi's too much for him to deal with?

"Babe. You don't even fucking fit in my lap, there's no way you gonna hide like this." Sonny tries to lighten the mood.

Usnavi stares at them- two boys clinging to each other like they're the only right pieces in a broken puzzle. "Nah. Y'all are fine. Just please keep it in your pants when I'm around, K?"

Pete shoves an urgent hand through Sonny's hair. "You hear that, man? He's good."

Pete's skin tingles where Sonny presses a soft kiss to it. "Yeah, I heard. If he wasn't, it wouldn't of changed anything though. You know that right?"

Sighing into Sonny's shoulder, Pete replies, "I do now." Maybe he should've given Sonny more credit.

"How long have you two…"

Breaking apart and hiding beneath pillows, Sonny and Pete speak simultaneously. "Week and a half."

Usnavi's brows draw together. "Well… I guess you've kept it in your pants-"

That's the last straw. Sonny and Pete explode into laughter, their faces buried in the pillows.

"Not really, no," Pete chokes out.

Sonny cackles, "Pete!" but he can barely get it out. They're both just a little bit high on relief.

Usnavi's eyes dart around the room, looking everywhere else. "Get some clothes on, hoes."

"Sure thing, boss!"

Two pairs of jeans are on the floor. One tank top. One T-shirt, a baseball cap, a pile of sheets. What a mess.

"I don't wanna clean all of that shit." Pete's already got the world's messiest room back… home.

"Today's… what's today?" Sonny watches Usnavi leave for the bodega. "Thursday?"

"Yeah." Pete starts to get up off the bed, but Sonny holds out an arm, holding him back.

"He's going to be at work all day." Sonny wiggles his eyebrows at Pete.

"Are you thinking what I'm thinking?"

"You wanna hang out?"

**I think one more chapter.**


	16. Puzzle

Pete takes a sip of his coffee, watching people pass through the door of the bodega. No one spares him or Sonny an unusual glance. "I don't think Usnavi told anyone."

It's both disappointment- those reactions would've been priceless- and mischievous anticipation- how much longer can they keep up the charade?

Or- how can they come out in the most inventive way? "Yo. How are we gonna tell them? We gotta make this _ours_."

Pete knows exactly what Sonny is talking about. "Oh, y'know. Fuck in their bedrooms and let them find us. One by one."

"Genius."

Before they can talk seriously about it, though, Usnavi pops in with a nervous grin. "So. Hey. Pete. Seeing as, well, okay, I guess it's not much of a valid excuse that you and Sonny are… um… a thing, but in any case, I was wondering if you could paint the bodega sign? I'd pay you, obviously, and as long as it still says _de la Vega Bodega_ you can stylize it however you want, and I don't know, I just thought that maybe I could ask you to do that because I really liked that painting you did of Abuela, you know, and maybe we should, like interact more, because- again- you two, and I figure if I'm gonna pay someone to do it they should be good, and you're really good- really, really good, like for real, man, that shit is beautiful. Anyway, yeah. I just- do you think you could repaint the bodega sign because if you haven't noticed it was completely wrecked during the blackout. I mean, I guess you probably did notice-"

"Sure, man, he'll think about it," Sonny interjects with a smirk. "Thanks."

"Ay, no prob." Usnavi hurries back to the bodega register as Benny rings up a few things.

"Shit." What just happened is a bit of a puzzle to Pete.

"Oh yeah. You gotta just stop him, 'cuz he gonna keep going if you don't." Sonny nods to Usnavi freestyle rapping non-stop like he's running out of time.

"A'ight. So he wants me to paint that sign?"

"Yeah, that's the gist of it."

Pete stares off into space, another one of his sly smiles spreading like butter. "I got an idea."

Sonny watches as Pete strides up to the register, admiring the view.

Pete offers Usnavi a head. "Can I paint one of your walls whatever I want? If I can, I'll paint that sign for free."

Usnavi's eyebrows draw together, confused, but he shakes Pete's hand. "Deal."

Pete waves goodbye to Sonny, and Sonny smiles at Pete's wink. Pete heads home: he's got a few sketches to find.

"You drew this?"

"A while back, yeah." Pete ducks his head, and Sonny keeps staring. What does Pete have to be self conscious about? This is beautifully drawn, and saturated with feeling. Sonny didn't know Pete liked him _a while back._

Pete and Sonny- it's very obviously Sonny, complete with the messy curls trapped under a backwards baseball cap- kissing like there's no tomorrow, holding each other so close, the shading mixes so you can't tell where Pete ends and Sonny begins.

"When- when is a while back?" Sonny asks, his eyes still on the drawing. Pete blushes, watching Sonny's eyes comb over the two of them, over and over. Showing him this sketch is like showing Sonny something inexplicably intimate.

"I- just around the Carnaval… I was daydreaming, I think." Pete tilts his head, tugging a sharp breath in when Sonny presses his lips to Pete's neck chastely. "You just said you liked Nina, so I drew myself a world where you liked me instead. I didn't know that world was this one."

That _has_ to be the sweetest thing anyone has ever said to Sonny. Ever. Pete looks over at Sonny, hoping Sonny doesn't find that too weird, and Sonny can't help himself.

"C'mere." Sonny kisses Pete's lips, prying them open. His fingers slide under Pete's jean jacket and shirt. "I love you."

Pete's eyes pop open. "I love you too."

The power is back, and just in time for everyone to charge up their phones and spread the word. _Look at the mural at Usnavi's bodega._

Sonny gets a text. _It's done._ And he's up, running over and checking the time (wow, he slept late).

Benny is already there, gazing in awe beside an astonished Vanessa and Carla and Daniela, who are hugging, all cuddles and fluff. Usnavi looks as though his puzzle has been torn apart and rebuilt, but not necessarily in a bad way.

And Pete is there, blushing like mad and smiling this offhanded smile that's lazy and graceful and perfect.

"Hey love," Sonny calls out, and Pete's smile lights up like stars, brilliant.

Pete wants to keep Sonny tucked in his chest when Sonny smiles over at him. "Hey babe."

Usnavi lets out a strangled noise.

Pete turns, fidgeting with his backpack. "You like it?"

Usnavi laughs. "Yeah, I do."

Sonny smiles. It's undeniably beautiful, even better than the one of Abuela, if you ask him.

Pete kissing Sonny against the rising sun, so it looks as if they glow from the inside out, a rich, dusky orange lit with hope and beauty. It's exactly how Sonny feels every time Pete kisses him. Again, they're pressed so tightly, arms wound around each other, that they almost appear to be connected, one bleeding into the other the way love seeps from one person to another.

Pete grins at Sonny as the neighborhood circles around them. Now they're the pieces at the center, too. "I love you."

Sonny pulls Pete down to him. "I love you too," he murmurs against Pete's lips, and then they're kissing.

José whistles, Julio grabs José's hand. Carla turns and kisses Daniela right then and there.

But Pete and Sonny don't see any of this. Fingers dancing, eyes closed, tongues tangled, they're lost in each other, their puzzle complete and they don't care anymore who can see it, because it's painted behind them.

Love, love, love.

~Fin~


End file.
